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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27649964">All the World's a Stage</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ophelia_of_the_Woods/pseuds/Ophelia_of_the_Woods'>Ophelia_of_the_Woods</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Doctor Who Au [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Doctor Who Fusion, Alternate Universe - Elizabethan Era, Other, but i encourage it, knowledge of three identical strangers and a palace made of crystal is not necessary, part 3 baby</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:26:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,770</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27649964</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ophelia_of_the_Woods/pseuds/Ophelia_of_the_Woods</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The plan was simple. Go to the Globe Theatre, meet Shakespeare and be back within a few hours<br/>But if past experiences taught Tubbo anything, its that nothing ever goes according to plan</p><p>-</p><p>Or, Tubbo, Tommy, Wilbur and George travel back in time, and run into some complications</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>GeorgeNotFound &amp; Wilbur Soot, Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; TommyInnit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Doctor Who Au [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1986658</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Opening Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On Tuesday the 18, June 2019, at precisely 6:03 pm, Tubbo Smith poked his head out of the Tardis into the grimy, foul smelling streets of London in 1599. The nearby surroundings of shops and thatch roofed houses were masked by a thick veil of white fog, from which figures would pass through momentarily, before vanishing once more. Turning his head, he looked upwards, his eyes passing over the roofs of houses before landing on a round building illuminated by yellow light that peeked through the fog. </p><p>“Your eyes are correct,” He heard Wilbur’s voice say. Glancing back, he spotted the Time Lord pulling on a brown coat and walking towards the door. “That, dear Tubbo, is the Globe Theatre.” </p><p>“I wanna see.” Tommy's voice interjected as the teen stepped forward. He and Wilbur both approached the Tardis doors and opened them, allowing thin trails of fog to collect around Tubbo's feet. Tommy let out a low whistle. “It smells like shit, not gonna lie.”</p><p>“Well, the roads are literally caked with it, so that might have something to do with it.” Tubbo retorted, stepping out of the Tardis. Beneath his feet, the mud made a squelching noise, and Tubbo immediately reconsidered his choice of wearing white shoes that day. “Are you sure we won’t look out of place dressed like this?” He asked, toying with the hem of his shirt. </p><p>“Nah,” Wilbur said, stepping out and holding his hands behind his head. “Just walk around like you own it. If anyone asks, just say you're an earl or something.”</p><p>“Does that strategy always work for you?” George asked, stepping beside the Time Lord with Tommy trailing behind him. </p><p>“Oh sure it does.” Wilbur winked at the man. “And if it doesn’t,” He reached into his coat and pulled out his wallet, waving it in the air. “Psychic paper, always does the trick.” </p><p>“So, why are we here exactly?” Tommy asked, crossing his arms over his chest. </p><p>“We are here,” Wilbur began as he placed the wallet back into his coat, “Because today, William Shakespeare is going to unveil his newest play. And we will be the first in line.”</p><p>“Which show is it?” Tubbo interjected excitedly. </p><p>“Bet it's Romeo and Juliet.” Tommy muttered.</p><p>“Why’d you say that?” Tubbo asked. Tommy looked at him and rolled his eyes. </p><p>“Dunno, star crossed lovers ringing any bells?” He hissed, pointing his thumb at the two in front of them. Tubbo considered his statement and its potential nuances, and elected to ignore it. </p><p>“We are not watching Romeo and Juliet.” Wilbur exclaimed, raising a hand to press his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “It's boring and old and completely unrealistic. As if love could stop two mob families from killing each other.”</p><p>“Now wait a minute.” George interjected. “I always liked Romeo and Juliet. Clearly, you don’t know enough about love to understand its effects on a person.” Wilbur rolled his eyes. </p><p>“George, you clearly have no taste in literature. Romeo and Juliet is overplayed, me and the universe are over it.” He slung his arm around Georges shoulders. “We’re here to watch a new show, one that actually makes sense.”</p><p>“Are you actually going to tell us what it is or are you going to keep monologuing about it?” Tubbo exclaimed, narrowing his eyes at the Time Lord. A look of annoyance flashed across Wilbur's face, before he rolled his eyes. </p><p>“We’re watching As You Like It, capische?” He exclaimed, rubbing his eyes. </p><p>“Never heard of it.” Tommy said. Wilbur sent him a look that seemed to say he would murder the boy if he didn’t shut up, at least thats what Tubbo understood it to mean.</p><p>“Well, you’re hearing about it now.” Wilbur hissed. “Now let's go!” He turned around and began marching forward, nearly dragging George along in the process. Tubbo and Tommy stared at each other, before barking with laughter. </p><p>“Bruh, why’s he getting so upset about this?” Tommy exclaimed, throwing his head back.</p><p>“I don’t know, it's Wilbur, what’d you expect?” Tubbo replied. Laughing, Tommy threw his arm around Tubbos shoulder and the two began marching through the fog, with Tubbo trying his best to avoid what he identified as human feces as much as possible.   </p><p>---</p><p>	“I'm pretty sure that's a safety hazard.” Tubbo muttered as he passed a torch that was hanging from the wall, inches away from a large stack of hay bales.</p><p>	“Don't worry about that,” Wilbur said, looking over his shoulder. “That won't happen for another 14 years.” Tubbo sighed, but continued walking towards the theatre. As the group approached the entrance, they stopped as a large crowd narrowly avoided rolling Tubbo and Tommy over. </p><p>	“Watch yourselves!” Tommy yelled at the crowd, which ignored him. Tommy huffed, but continued moving forward. The group struggled to move through the crowd, but after several attempts, they reached the entrance.</p><p>“Coin please.” The voice of a bucktooth teen called out, shaking out a cup. Wilbur reached into his coat and pulled out some coins and dropped them into the cup. The teen nodded his head, and gestured for them to enter. Inside, a large mass of people stood shoulder to shoulder, chatter buzzing through the air. Tubbo allowed himself to take in the sight around him: the theatre was surprisingly snug, with tall poles and railing keeping those on the lower levels from accessing the booths of the wealthy. Spotting a box directly facing the stage, Tubbo began to wonder if it belonged to the queen, before elevating not to tell Tommy about the chance of the queen arriving. He didn’t need his friend to draw any more attention onto them.</p><p>“So, do we just stand here or…” Tommy trailed off, looking around him at the grime covered crowd. “Cause Shakespeare’s usually really long, and I don’t wanna stand around for like, three hours, I’ve got things to do.”</p><p>“This is why you failed history.” George muttered, rubbing his eyelids in annoyance.</p><p>“Its a perfectly reasonable concern Gogy.” Tommy retorted. Tubbo rolled his eyes as George and Wilbur stared at one another, before slowly turning their heads to look at the teen. </p><p>“You know, I could just not invite you to the next trip. It could just be me, George and Tubbo. What do you think of that George?” Wilbur said, a smirk crawling onto his face.</p><p>“Can’t say I wouldn’t be opposed to that.” George replied, grinning. Tubbo nodded in agreement. </p><p>Getting the point, Tommy crossed his arms and glared at the two adults, but turned his eyes back towards the stage. Suddenly, loud trumpets began to blare, causing the loud area to let out cries of excitement. Tubbo felt Wilbur's arm settle around his shoulder, his other landing around Tommys, pulling the two closer to him. Up on the stage, the curtains parted for a man dressed in a jester's outfit to enter, causing further yelling. The jester raised up his arms, keeping them in the air for several moments, before he slowly lowered them, and with that, the noise in the room. </p><p>Grinning, the jester pulled out a scroll and unfurled it, causing the long paper to droop onto the floor, eliciting laughter from the audience. The jester coughed loudly into his sleeve, silencing the audience once more. </p><p>“Ladies,” He tipped his head towards the audience, moving it across the room, “And Gentlemen.” The audience laughed once more. Tubbo let out a bark of laughter, before silencing himself quickly. “The Globe Theatre, along with the Lord Chamberlain’s Men cordially welcome you this evening's show. Yes, tonight, you will witness a brand new performance, unlike any seen before, we promise you.” The jester gestured his arm around the room, causing a drumroll to play. “We are proud to present to you, a new play, full of mystery, love, betrayal, and everything you’ve come to see.”</p><p>“I’ve come to see a show, not a clown monologuing!” A voice from the audience cried out. Tubbo turned his head to see where it came from, but the massive crowd made finding anyone not within 5 feet of him difficult. He looked back at the jester, whose face was masked with annoyance, but quickly recovered, a grin sliding back onto his face. </p><p>“And we won’t delay you that any longer.” The drumroll came to a crescendo. “Presenting, As You Like It!” The jester bowed heavily, before turning around and skipping back behind the curtains.</p><p>“Prepare to be amazed.” George exclaimed, his hands shaking. Tubbo stared at his friend for a second, before turning his attention back onto the stage, where a man dressed in red and carrying a shovel had sat down.</p><p>‘It's going to be one of those shows,’ he thought to himself as the man began to speak. </p><p>---</p><p>	As the audience began to cheer, Tubbo considered himself lucky that the show hadn’t been one of those Shakespeare shows. Glancing to his right, he spotted George, who was wearing a large grin on his face, and to his left, Tommy, who looked downright miserable. </p><p>	“Come on Tommy, it wasn’t that bad.” He said, nudging his friend with his elbow. Tommy slowly turned his head to stare at him, his eyes narrowed. </p><p>	“You and I have very different definitions of good.” He muttered. Tubbo rolled his eyes and focused his attention back onto the stage, where the other actors had joined the actor playing Rosalind in bowing. </p><p>	“Doesn’t the audience usually yell something to get him out?” George half yelled. “You know like, author, author?!”</p><p>	“Not typically-” Wilbur began, but paused as the crowd around them began chanting ‘author.’ George's face flushed. “Well, they do now!” He exclaimed cheekily.</p><p>	“George,” Tommy exclaimed, turning to face the man, a grin on his face. “What was that about protecting the integrity of the timeline?”</p><p>	“Shut up.” George muttered embarrassed, attempting to hide in the audience, quite unsuccessfully, Tubbo noted. “Well, what do we do now?”</p><p>	“Well,” Wilbur began, rubbing his hand along his face, “Since the brilliant bard is so unwilling to make an appearance, I suppose we could visit him first.”</p><p>	Tubbo and the others stared at him in shock. “Wait, are you serious?” Tubbo asked in disbelief. Wilbur nodded, pulling out his wallet and waving it cheekily. “Oh my god, I’m going to meet Shakespeare!”</p><p>	“Holy shit,” Tommy exclaimed, his body shaking. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.”</p><p>	“Holy shit!” George screeched, jumping up and down. “We’re going to meet Shakespeare!” </p><p>	“Alright, calm yourselves.” Wilbur said, repeatedly raising his hands. “No need to make a scene, we’re trying to lay low, there's no need to blow our cover.”</p><p>	“Sorry, it's just, really exciting!” Tubbo exclaimed, balling his hands into fists. “I mean, it is Shakespeare.”</p><p>	“Remind me to never let any of you near Buckingham Palace.” Wilbur muttered, pushing his glasses up the frame of his nose. From the corner of his eye, Tubbo could see Tommy’s body go completely still. </p><p>	“You can take us to meet the queen?” He asked, his voice a dangerous level of calm. Wilbur's face paled as realization set in. </p><p>	“I didn’t mean it like that-”</p><p>	“You’re telling me I can meet the queen?!” </p><p>	“Oh, I’m never hearing the end of this, am I?”</p><p>	“Never. Now, let's go meet Shakespeare. I have a bone to pick with him.” </p><p>	“You’re just upset that you had to stand up for an hour and a half.” Tubbo muttered. </p><p>	“It is a cruel and unusual punishment Tubbo. I will not stand for it. Literally!” Wilbur let out a deep sigh. </p><p>	“The things I do for the three of you.” George narrowed his eyes. </p><p>	“Don’t pretend that you don’t like us.” He said, grinning at the Time Lord. “Whose idea was it to come here?”</p><p>	“George, I would kill you if I could.”</p><p>	“But you won’t!” George sang out, adjusting his coat. “Because you said it yourself, you need friends, and we’re the only ones you’ve got.”</p><p>	“I need to get me some new friends.”</p><p>“No, you need to get us to Shakespeare's office, or wherever he is.” He tugged on the Time Lords sleeve. “Now, let's get going. This place stinks.”</p><p>	“I couldn’t agree more.” Tubbo exclaimed.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Tavern's and Bards</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The gang meets the Bard, who is, quite surprisingly, a flirt</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On Tuesday the 18, June 2019, at precisely 8:51 pm, Tubbo Smith made his way through the bustling crowd to enter a dimly lit tavern, narrowly avoiding bumping into a group of rambunctious men seated at a long table. The tavern was filled with loud cries of excitement and anger from drunken patrons, and Tubbo watched two patrons begin brawling in a corner, before being separated by workers. </p>
<p>“Now this is my kind of town!” Tommy exclaimed loudly, as to be heard over the ruckus. The teen wore a mischievous grin, and Tubbo watched as his arm reached out to grab a pint of ale that had been abandoned during the brawl. </p>
<p>“Tommy.” Wilbur's voice rang out as the man turned to look at the teen with narrowed eyes. Tommy froze under his gaze, but carefully backed away from the table, his arms raised in a defensive manner. </p>
<p>“Excuse me,” He heard George speak, spotting the man standing by the bar. “Is Mr. Shakespeare staying here tonight?”</p>
<p>	“What’s it to ya?” The man replied, resting his elbow on the bar and leering at George, who looked uncomfortable with his actions. </p>
<p>“We’re here to see him for business reasons.” George said, puffing out his chest in an attempt to appear confident, though Tubbo could see his discomfort. The bar keeper let out a laugh, and it was an unpleasant guttural noise. </p>
<p>“Business reasons? I’m gonna need more than that before I let anyone into the inn above. Got any references?”</p>
<p>	“Yes, we do.” Wilbur replied, stepping forward and pulling out his wallet, holding it up to the man's eyeline. The barkeep stared at it, before jolting in shock.</p>
<p>“My apologies.” He exclaimed breathlessly. “If I had known who you were, I wouldn’t have given ya such trouble.”</p>
<p>“You’d do well to remember that. Now, where's the Bard, we have business to discuss.”</p>
<p>“Up the stairs to the left, on the third floor. You’ll find him at the end of the hall.” </p>
<p>“Your cooperation was greatly appreciated.” Wilbur placed the wallet back into his coat. “Boys, let's get going.” </p>
<p>“Yes sir!” Tommy yelped. Wilbur rolled his eyes, before heading towards the back of the bar and opened it. He began to trudge up the spiral staircase, parting only when a man who Tubbo recognized as the jester from the night's performance passed by him. As he was the last member of the group to begin ascending up the stairs, he had enough time to look at the man as he passed him. </p>
<p>Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted the jester staring at him. It was strangely unnerving, sending a chill down Tubbo's spine. Slowly, the jester rounded the corner and exited his field of view. Tubbo paused for a moment to consider whether or not he should tell the others about the experience, but a voice in his head told him it was nothing to worry about. It was probably because the clothes he wore were out of the jesters' time, nothing more. </p>
<p>“Hey, you coming?” Tommy's voice rang out, startling Tubbo from his thoughts. </p>
<p>“Yea, I’m on my way.” He elected to put the experience out of his mind.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>	“So he’s really in there?” Tubbo asked, running his hands down the sides of his legs nervously. Both he and George were alight with nervous energy, though George looked like he was on the verge of exploding. </p>
<p>	“Yes, he is.” Wilbur said, running his hand through his hair repeatedly. “George, how do I look?”</p>
<p>	“Fine to me.” George retorted, half paying attention. </p>
<p>	“You guys are such nerds.” Tommy muttered, his arms crossed. Unlike the others, he had remained completely passive to the situation at hand. </p>
<p>	“Says you mister ‘I would do anything for you Vikkstar.’” Tubbo retorted, causing George to choke with laughter. Tommy's face went red. </p>
<p>	“Vikkstar's is cooler than Shakespeare anyway.” He retorted. </p>
<p>	“Alright cool it you two.” Wilbur hissed, still fiddling with his hair. “I don’t need you making a bad first impression. It's not everyday you meet the world's greatest playwright. </p>
<p>	“I thought you would’ve met him by now, considering you’re such a big fan.” Wilbur paused.</p>
<p>	“Let me rephrase that. It's not everyday you get to meet the world's greatest playwright in your current state.”</p>
<p>	“Wait, what’da ya mean by ‘current state?’” Tommy asked. </p>
<p>	“Did I ever describe it to them?” Wilbur asked George, who shook his head. “I’ll tell ya some other time.” Standing to his full height, the Time Lord breathed in deeply, before marching forward and knocking on the doorframe of the open room. “Excuse me, not interrupting, am I?” </p>
<p>	Tubbo and the others were quick to lean forward, attempting to catch a glimpse of the bard, who was seated at a table along with two other men. Catching himself before he would inevitably end up slipping and falling onto the floor, he awkwardly shuffled into the room, attempting to remain as hidden as possible, as not to disturb the man. </p>
<p>	“Oh no, no, no,” The bard spoke, raising a hand to his eyes in annoyance. “Who let you in? No autographs, no you can’t have yourself sketched with me, and please don’t ask me where I get my ideas from.” He took a swig from a glass sat on his desk. “Thanks for the interest, now be a bigger boy and shove…” He trailed off. Tubbo looked at him in confusion, before following his line of eye to spot where it had landed, on George. </p>
<p>	“Oh, sit down next to me.” Shakespeare placed down his drink and getured to an empty chair. George had frozen in place, a look of pure panic setting onto his face. Smirking, Wilbur elbowed the man forward, causing him to almost run into the chair. “You two,” He gestured to the men seated at the table. “Get yourselves out and measured for costumes.”</p>
<p>	The man on Tubbos left rose first, placing a hand on the other's shoulder. “Come on now, I think our Williams found his new muse.” The man on the right barked with laughter, but stood up to exit, passing Tubbo on the way out. “Oi Will, there's more of ‘em!” </p>
<p>	“What do you mean more?” Shakespeare retorted, his eyes flickering away from George to his companions.</p>
<p>	The men grinned. “Children!” The smile fell from Shakespeare’s lips, as he craned his head to stare at Tubbo and Tommy. Wilbur slowly guided a still George into one of the seats, before seating himself in the other one.  </p>
<p>	“What may I do for you?” Shakespeare asked, his voice layered with charm, his eyes trained on George. His flirtation was in vain, Tubbo thought, as George was as oblivious as a rock, completely unable to tell when someone was making advances on him. This was an awkward experience that Tubbo had experienced multiple times, be it in their trips to the park, grocery store and restaurants. While Tubbo didn't quite understand, he surmised that his babysitter had some type of charm to him, one that was capable of working on 16th century men.</p>
<p>	“Right,” Wilbur interrupted, pulling out his wallet and holding it out to the bard. “I’m Sir Wilbur of Tardis, and these are my companions, George, Tommy and Tubbo Ashworth.”</p>
<p>	“Interesting, that bit of paper.” Shakespeare exclaimed, taking his eyes away from George to stare at the wallet. “It's blank.”</p>
<p>	A look of pure joy crossed Wilbur's face. “Oh that's,” He said. “That's brilliant. That proves it.” Tubbo looked over at the psychic paper. Sure enough, his and his friends' names were neatly printed onto it. </p>
<p>	“No, it says it right there.” Tommy said, reaching over to point at the paper. “Sir Wilbur, Tommy, Tubbo and George.” </p>
<p>	“I say it's blank.” Tubbo and Tommy stared at one another in confusion, before looking over at Wilbur, who was smiling. </p>
<p>	“But that's impossible.” Tubbo breathed out. </p>
<p>	“Many things are impossible. Now to the point, who are you four, and more importantly,” He turned his eyes back to George. “Who’s your raven friend?” George stared blankly at the bard, who laughed. “Not much of a talker then?”</p>
<p>	“No, he’s got quite a mouth when you rile him up.” Tommy exclaimed, a shit-eating grin crossing his face. Tubbo reached over and smacked him over the head, deciding that if George was too incapacitated to do it, he would perform the task in his place. “Ow,” Tommy complained, raising his hand to rub the back of his head. “That really hurt.”</p>
<p>	“You had that coming.” Wilbur retorted. </p>
<p>	“Wild brats aren’t they.” Shakespeare said, staring at the two standing boys. Tommy let out a huff of annoyance, while Tubbo began to focus his attention on the sleeve of his shirt. </p>
<p>	“Oh, you know how kids are.” Wilbur replied sarcastically, putting the wallet away. “Always starting trouble.”</p>
<p>	“Indeed.” The bard said, raising his glass to his lips once more. “Tell me, Sir Wilbur, how does one so young have eyes so old?”</p>
<p>	“I do a lot of reading.” Wilbur replied, his eyebrow raised. </p>
<p>	“So have I, but I can still recognize heartbreak when I see it.” The interaction was extremely confusing. Tubbo found himself wondering if there was something that Wilbur was keeping from him. He made a mental note to ask him about it later. </p>
<p>	“I think it's best we head to bed.” George spoke up, finally waking from his trance. He stood up quickly and grabbed Tommy and Tubbo by the shoulder. “Pleasure meeting you.”</p>
<p>	“The same to you.” Shakespeare said bowing his head slightly. </p>
<p>	“Goodbye William.” Tubbo said, waving awkwardly, before putting his hand back down and slinking out of the room. He leaned against the wall, waiting for Wilbur to come out. “Well that was fun.”</p>
<p>	“You really pulled out the old Gogy charm, didn’t ya George?” Tommy said, smirking up at the elder, whose face was covered with confusion. </p>
<p>	“Tommy,” He began, slowly turning his head to look at the teen. “Just because I used to babysit you doesn’t mean I won’t hesitate to beat you over the head with a stick if you continue with this obnoxious behavior.”</p>
<p>	Tommy paled. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” He exclaimed nervously. “There’s no need to get violent. We’re all adults here, let's be civil.”</p>
<p>	Tubbo heard footsteps, and spotted Wilbur coming out of the room. “Oh, that was quick. Will we be off then?”</p>
<p>	Wilbur ran his hand through his hair. “Do you want to leave already?” He asked. The group stood in silence for a moment, contemplating. </p>
<p>	“I mean, we could,” Tubbo began, “But something tells me you want to stay a little while longer.”</p>
<p>	Wilbur sighed. “You’re a proper detective Tubbo. Do I hear any objections to spending an extra night?” When neither George nor Tommy spoke, Wilbur clapped his hands together. “Righty then, I’ll ask the man downstairs for a room for the night. You three stay up here, I’ll be back shortly.” </p>
<p>---</p>
<p>	It was no wonder people died so young in the 16th century, Tubbo thought to himself, considering they had to sleep in beds like this. He and Tommy had been forced to share a bed with very little back support, causing him and his friend to be extremely uncomfortable. Shifting awkwardly, he looked up at Tommy, who seemed to be just as uncomfortable as him. </p>
<p>	“Hey,” he whispered. Tommy's eyes blinked open, and he scrunched his face together.</p>
<p>“Tubbo,” He groaned, “Why'd you do that, I was almost asleep.”</p>
<p>“Sorry,” He whispered. “I didn't know if you were still awake, and I wanted to talk to someone.”</p>
<p>“Are Wilbur and George still up?”</p>
<p>“No, I don't think so. They stopped talking a while ago.” Tommy let out another moan.</p>
<p>“Well we're certainly awake now.” George's drowsy voice called out from across the room. Raising his body, Tubbo could spot the elder shuffling around in his bed.</p>
<p>“Are you wearing Wilburs jacket?” He asked, staring at the brown fabric draping over the man. </p>
<p>“Yes I am, it's cold.” George retorted, his voice low. “Now shut up, I want to sleep.” Tubbo looked over at his companion.</p>
<p>“Tommy, can I have some of your blanket?”</p>
<p>“Fuck off, this is mine.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Boom, here we go, chapter 2!<br/>If you're wondering why some of the dialogue sounds different to my usual style, its because I stole most of it from the Doctor Who episode "The Shakespeare Code."<br/>Anyway, you know the rules, roast me if you spot a typo</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Office Disturbances</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tubbo and the others can't find Wilbur, and find him in Shakespeare's office</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>On Tuesday the 19, June 2019, at precisely 7:16 am,Tubbo Smith awoke to sudden beams of light landing right on his face. He groaned, attempting to roll over as to avoid the light, but incorrectly assumed how close he was to the edge of the bed, and with a thud, landed on the ground.  From above, he could hear Tommy snort with laughter. “Shut up Tommy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That's payment for last night!” The blond exclaimed, pulling the blanket closer around himself, only to yelp as George ripped it off of him. “George what the hell?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like you said, revenge for last night.” Tommy let out another groan. “Now, the both of you, up. We've got stuff to do. ”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What kind of stuff?” Tubbo asked, standing up and searching the room for his shirt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don't know.” George exclaimed, folding the blanket in his hand. “But we're doing something. We´re in 16th century London. There's gotta be something. Wilbur, what are we doing today?”Tubbo paused from buttoning up his shirt to look around the small room he had spent the night in, which was suspiciously lacking any sign of Wilbur. “Wilbur?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Placing the folded up blanket onto the bed, George made his way to the doorway and poked his head out, calling his friend's name out again. Tubbo looked over at Tommy, who'd finally left his half-asleep state. The two shared a look of concern, before George turned around to look at them again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don't see him.” He exclaimed nervously. Tubbo's stomach began to churn nervously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe he just went downstairs for food.” Tommy exclaimed, attempting to lighten the mood. “I mean, who doesn't want to eat stew and potatoes, I certainly do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, he wouldn't just leave without telling us where he's heading.” George said, running a hand through his hair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“George, he probably went upstairs to visit Shakespeare again.” Tubbo said, walking over to the door to collect his shoes. “I mean, he is a fan. Pretty sure he just wanted to talk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>George let out a sigh. “You're probably right Tubbo.” He said, leaning against the wall. “I'm just blowing this all out of proportion.” He ran his hands down his face and let out a deep breath. “Alright, put on your shoes, we're going upstairs to find him and yell at him for abandoning us without so much as a word.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes!” Tommy yelled, raising his fist in the air. “I love yelling at people.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Trust me,” Tubbo deadpanned. “We know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wilbur!” Tommy screeched as he banged his fist on the door to Shakespeare's office. “We know you're in there! Open the door this instant!” From his place in the hallway, Tubbo could hear the shuffling of movement from the room, before the door opened suddenly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you Tommy,” Wilbur exclaimed as reached over to grab the boy and drag him inside. “For letting everybody know that I'm here!” He reached out his arm to gesture for Tubbo and George to enter the room. “Wake up the whole building, why don't ya?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wouldn't have had to yell if someone had just told us where he was going!” Tommy retorted. Glancing around the room, Tubbo noticed how it was in a state of disrepair. Papers were strewn haphazardly, and the chairs that had previously been seated by the desk had been overturned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wilbur, what's going on?” He asked. Wilbur paused from his bickering with the other teen to look back at the desk. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing good.” He said, running his hand through his hair. “I heard a lot of noise coming from the office and went upstairs to investigate. Imagine my surprise when I come in here and find this mess.” He gestured to the messy room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbo's eyes flicked around the room, taking in the state of disrepair. “It seems like there was a struggle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re right in that regard.” Wilbur responded. “Come here.” He waved out his hand, instructing the three to follow him, pointing an arm out to the desk. “I found him like this.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Next to the overturned chair lay the body of William Shakespeare.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Holy shit,” Tommy whispered. George took in a sharp breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is he, is he dead?” George stammered, holding his hands over his mouth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, not yet.” Wilbur said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then we need to call for help! He needs to see a doctor!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It's not that simple George, believe me, I’d love to seek medical attention, but these are extenuating circumstances.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Yea, I don’t know what that means.” Tommy replied sarcastically. Wilbur rolled his eyes, before he crouched over the Bards body, fiddling with the top buttons of his shirt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you see this?” He pointed at Shakespeare's neck. Tubbo leaned in to get a closer look. “These are bite marks, and no, they don’t come from any human.” Upon further inspection, Tubbo was able to spot several circular puncture marks dusting the pale skin in pink. He reached his hand over to touch them, but they were swatted away by Wilbur. “No touching.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” George asked impatiently. “This is the 1600’s, there's no aliens here!” He paused for a moment. “At least, I don’t think there are. Tell me there aren’t!” Wilbur hissed and gritted his teeth. George threw his head back in defeat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How did aliens even end up in Tudor England?” Tommy asked, still in shock. “Far as I know, aliens can’t time travel.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur turned to him. “Are you in the right headspace to receive information that could possibly hurt you?” He deadpanned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll take that as a yes.” Tommy responded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How did this even happen?” Tubbo asked, eyes darting to the Time Lord, who stood up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My best guess is that some being messed up their coordinates when they were making a jump and ended up here. Though I don’t understand why they’d go after Shakespeare.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe they’re a fan of his work?” Tubbo joked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If they were a fan of his work, why was there a fight?” Wilbur responded, rubbing his hand across his chin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fair enough.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay hold on,” George exclaimed, ringing his hands. “I know we’re on the conversation of aliens, but what exactly are we supposed to do with the half dead genius?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yea,” Tubbo responded. “What about that, hmm?” Wilbur crouched back down and began prodding the neck wound. Tubbo noted with disgust how a pale yellow liquid began emitting from the puncture holes. He let out a groan of disgust when Wilbur pressed his finger into the liquid and placed it into his mouth. “Wilbur that's disgusting!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur smacked his lips several times. “Aha!” He yelled, standing up suddenly. “I knew I recognized that kind of bite. It's a Nichovant!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wilbur, please stop yelling out the names of aliens, you know we don’t know what they are.” Tommy deadpanned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I really need to get you guys out more.” Wilbur muttered. “Or give you an encyclopedia of aliens to know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wil, this really isn’t helpful.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I could quiz you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wilbur, please cut the dramatics and tell us what a Nichovant is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you insist, George. A Nichovant is a being from the Romtue Universe. They’ve spent centuries at war with a species known as the Stiasts, at least, they were, until a few years ago.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wilbur, is the lore necessary?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, it is Tubbo. After decades in a stalemate, the Stiasts got their hands on a new type of energy weapon, and began to turn the tide of war in their favor. The Nichovant began to scatter across the universe in order to find minds competent to create new weapons, one that could defeat the Stiasts. And by the looks of it,” He gestured to the body. “One of them found a potential match.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But why Shakespeare?” George asked. “I mean, surely, there have to be other people who are more intelligent, no disrespect.” He apologized to the  man. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’d think, but the thing about Shakespeare is that his mind is built for creativity. I mean, who else could come up with these types of stories. From his mind, he built entirely new words.” Wilbur looked at the Bard with a fond smile. “Truly, there’s never been a mind like him, and there hasn’t been one since.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God, please just tell us what to do. Save us the hero speech.” Tommy muttered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is he in a coma then?” Tubbo asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, yea, I guess.” Wilbur said. “Here's the thing. Shakespeare’s trapped within his own mind, that’s obvious. But the problem is that the Nichovant doesn’t care about what happens to him. His mind is a means to an end, so when it leaves-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It takes Shakespeare's mind with them.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck.” Tommy breathed. The room fell silent, and Tubbo leaned against the desk. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a moment, George asked, “So what do we do now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Wilbur trailed off. The others looked over at him. “There is one thing we could do." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"And that is?”</span>
</p>
<p>
 <span>“Very dangerous.” Wilbur said, running his hands through his hair. “And potentially traumatizing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tommy and I stabbed an alien to death when we were ten.” Tubbo deadpanned. “Whatever trauma there is can’t hurt us anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ayyy, big man!” Tommy exclaimed, high-fiving him. George and Wilbur shared a look.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, I got stabbed through the chest and kidnapped by a tentacles monster.” George shrugged. “Whatever shit you throw at us, we can probably deal with.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur stared awkwardly. “Well, if you insist.” He pressed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “So, what I was thinking was that we form a psychic connection with Shakespeare in order to wake him up from his coma.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And how do you propose we do that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Time Lords can form mental connections with other beings.”</span>
</p>
<p>
<span>Tubbo's eyes went big. He glanced over at George and Tommy, who had reacted similarly. “Are you going to, you know, elaborate further on that point?”</span><span></span><br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I don’t think I will.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now,” Wilbur exclaimed, ignoring Tommy's remark. “The Nicovant will try to stop us. It knows what we’re here to do, so whatever you do, don’t get separated, and don’t fall for its trap. It’ll try to get you to stay with it; whatever you do, do not give in. I don’t need to lose any of you.” He reached his hands out and pressed them against the Bards temples, screwing his eyes closed in concentration. After several seconds, he extended his hand to George, who took it hesitantly. “Tommy, Tubbo, hold hands, we all need to be connected in order for this to work.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nodding, Tubbo took Tommy's hand and closed his eyes. He could hear Wilbur mentioning something, but his voice sounded distant. He tried to ask the Time Lord to speak up, but his mouth felt like it was full of cotton. Panic began to fill his stomach and he let go of Tommy's hand. He could hear Tommy's voice faintly cry out to him, before it went silent</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Mmmm, a cliff hanger? In my story? Impossible.<br/>Man, I really thought I was going to be able to spend the thanksgiving break working on my story but no, my family insisted we go out and do things, so if the next few chapters are delayed, blame them.<br/>Anyway, you know the drill, roast me if you spot a typo.</p>
<p>authors note: I made a comic strip for an event that occurs in chapter 4, so if you want me to post that along with the story, please let me know</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The White Void</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tubbo wakes up alone</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>On Tuesday the 19, June 2019, at precisely 7:20 am, Tubbo Smith hesitantly opened his eyes, blinking at the brightness. He was lying on the ground in an empty white space that seemingly stretched for miles. Standing up, his eyes began to adjust to the sudden light, and he began to look around for any indication of existence. </span>

</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello!” He called out, cupping his hands around his mouth in an attempt to make it louder. “Is anyone there?!” He was met with the sound of his voices echoing. He turned around several times, attempting to spot any indication of change. “Tommy?! Wilbur?! George?!”</span>

</p>
<p>
  <span>His echo was his only response. The panic that had filled his stomach began to feel like someone was stabbing him. “Tommy where are you?!” He cried out frantically, his breathing becoming more irregular. He could feel his heart beating rapidly. “Anybody! Is anybody there?!”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>The world around him was silent.</span>

</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo could feel hot tears begin to cloud his vision as he desperately scanned across the vast emptiness. He began to run forward, desperately searching for a sign of life. He ran for what felt like hours through the white void, screaming out the names of his friends until his throat began to scratch and his breathing became irregular. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>Coming to a stop, he fell to his knees, tears running down his cheeks. He curled in on himself, breathing deeply, thinking only of his friends. He muttered their names like a prayer, or perhaps, an attempt to keep himself from slipping away. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>He felt utterly alone. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>---</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Tubbo!” Tommy screeched, his head shooting upwards. Panting, he rose to his feet, his hand still holding onto Georges, nearly dragging the older man up with him in the process.</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy, what the hell?” George moaned, blinking wearily. Tommy turned to look at him.</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Tubbo's gone!” He screeched. George’s eyes went wide.</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“What?!”</span>

</p><p>
<span>“He’s gone! One second I was holding his hand, and the next I could feel him let go of my hand and then he was gone!”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Shit.” George breathed. “Wilbur!” He looked down at the Time Lord, who was still lying on the ground. “Wilbur, are you with us?” He flopped the arm holding onto Wilbur's hand several times. After several seconds, the brunette opened his eyes.</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“No need to shout.” He muttered wearily. George rolled his eyes. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Tubbo's missing!” </span>

</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“I said, Tubbo's missing!” Realization set onto Wilbur's features, and his body shot up into a standing position. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Yes I’m fucking sure!” Tommy hissed. “He's not holding my hand anymore.”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur let out a deep sigh and ran his right hand through his hair. “Okay, that's not good.”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Ya think?”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up Tommy.” He inhaled deeply, holding his breath for several seconds before letting it out once again. “Alright. New plan, new plan, gotta find Tubbo. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>"And how do we go about doing that exactly?”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“That's what I’m working on.” Tommy let out a groan. “I don’t see you coming up with any better ideas!”</span>

</p><p>
 <span>“Yea, and that's because I’m not the thinker of the group. I’m the comic relief, George and Tubbo are the thinkers.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“Tommy, we don’t need this right now.”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur rolled his eyes. “George is right. Look, I will admit, this doesn’t look good.” He raised his right arm in defense. “But, before you get more upset, let me talk. I have a sneaking suspicion that the reason Tubbo isn’t with us right now is because he let go of your hand.” </span>

</p><p>
  <span>“But why do we need to hold onto another?”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“I think,” George began, “It's about being connected. Just a minute ago, Wil, you said that we needed to be connected in order to enter Shakespeare’s mind, so if Tubbo let go of you,” He pointed at the teen. “Then it makes sense for him to no longer be with us.”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur nodded. “When I connected our minds to Shakespeare’s, my mind is the connecting force. The second Tubbo let go, he should have been brought back to reality.”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“So shouldn’t he be back in his own body then?” Tommy asked. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I suppose.” George and Tommy stared at him. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean, you suppose?” George asked, his eyes narrowing.</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Wilbur began. “If he let go during the activation process, he should be awake right now and be fully able to move around the reality we left.”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“And what if he isn’t?”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Then he’s trapped in the unconscious thought.” Wilbur's eyes lowered.</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“And that's not good?” George asked hesitantly.</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“No, no it isn’t.”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>Tommy let out a sigh, placing his left hand onto his forehead. George looked on the verge of panicking, so Wilbur drew closer to him and began rubbing his shoulder with his free hand. After several moments, Tommy allowed himself to inspect his environment.</span>

</p><p>
  <span>He and the others were standing in the clearing of a large, emerald green forest, beside a large campfire. Just above the tree line, he could see the sun beginning to set, lighting the sky in shades of blue and red light. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” He breathed. “We can’t just stay here and stress over this. I’m sure Tubbo's awake, right Wilbur?”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur blinked, before looking over at him. “Yes.”</span>
 
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.” He let out a sigh. “Well, we can’t stay here wasting daylight, let’s do what we came to do: save Shakespeare.”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>George nodded. “You’re right. Let's get a move one. Wilbur, where do we go now?”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur looked around the forest. “That way,” He pointed past the campfire. “Typically, I’ve found that the person's mind will often be located north of where those who enter it awaken.”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>Tommy nodded. “That way then. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>---</span>

</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo lay in the white void, feeling numb.</span>

</p><p>
  <span>Some time ago, he had fallen asleep. He hadn’t meant to, but after spending so much time running around and calling out for his friends, his body had tired itself out. Any perception of time he had once had was now gone, as he lay on the ground, staring into the emptiness.</span>

</p><p>
  <span>He considered whether or not to get up, to go out into the space before him and search for his friends. Was it worth it to explore, knowing he’d never find his way back? Not knowing the answer, he continued lying down. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>Time stretched, or did it? He couldn’t tell. The nothingness was all encompassing. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo counted to one thousand, then to two thousand. He’d almost reached three thousand when he miscalculated, and rather than move forward, he elected to start over. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>He made it to five thousand one hundred and ninety five when a large whooshing noise erupted from the back. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>Shooting his head up, Tubbo was able to catch an explosion of blue light passing over his head before disappearing into the horizon beyond him. Tubbo stared for a moment before rising to his feet, ready to chase after the mystery, when his mind became clouded with doubt. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>Is it really worth it to stay? </span>
  
  <span>A voice in his head spoke. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You don’t know what’s out there. Who’s to say there isn’t a beast that would rip you limb from limb. Stay where you know it’s safe.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo considered the voices words. It was safer here, even if he didn’t really know where here was. At least, he had a sense of direction. But, was it better? Here was relative. Tubbo had no way of knowing if staying here was better than going out and chasing after the only change he had experienced. </span>

</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You don’t want to leave this place. It's dangerous out there. Stay where you know it’s safe. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The voice spoke again. Why did it seem so familiar to Tubbo, the voice in his head never sounded like that. </span>

</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The void is no place for a human, stay, stay stay…</span>
  </em>

</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going.” He said to himself, a promise he could make that couldn’t be broken by that voice. “I’d rather chance finding my friends than existing alone.” He waited for a response from the voice, but it didn’t reply.</span>

</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo decided he had made the right choice and rose to his feet, staring down the emptiness surrounding him. He took a deep breath, and began marching forward into the unknown</span>

</p><p>
  <span>---</span>

</p><p>
  <span>Sunset had long passed, but Tommy, George and Wilbur continued moving through the dark canopy of trees. The black sky would occasionally be lit up by flashes of blue light that Wilbur described as streams of thoughts moving from synapse to synapse. </span>


</p><p>
  <span>“How much longer is it?” Tommy asked, looking over his shoulder and squinting to spot his friends. Despite being able to feel Georges hand in his own, he could not see the man; the darkness had practically enveloped him. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Hard to say.” Wilbur's voice called out to him. “Normally, we would have found the person's mind by now, but I get the feeling that we’ve been tricked.”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“How is that possible?” George said. </span>

</p><p><span>“Either I made a mistake, or the Nichovant has been sending us on a wild goose chase. And considering the lighting,” He paused, and probably gestured to the dark forest surrounding them. “We’ve fallen right into its lair.”</span>

</p><p>
&lt; <span>“Shit.” Tommy and George exclaimed. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Well now what do we do?” Tommy asked. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know.” Wilbur hissed, letting out a sigh. “Lets just sit down momentarily, give ourselves time to think.” Tommy felt George's arm tug down on him, and began lowering it, signaling Tommy to sit down. He grabbed blindly around him, before his hand landed on what he assumed was a wooden log, and sat down. The log was damp, and Tommy traced his fingers along the moss that grew on it. The silence settled around them, breaking only for the gentle whistle of wind. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>“What does the Nichovant look like?” George asked after several moments. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>“It's a shapeshifter.” Wilbur’s voice called out from the darkness. “It’ll take any form to trick you into letting it in. Don’t trust anyone you don’t know. You have no way of knowing whether they’re a Nichovant or not.”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Great.” Tommy muttered. Around him, the woods began to rustle as the faint breeze began to pick up. “How do we leave this place exactly?”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“We can leave at any time, but I would recommend staying until we solve the problem.”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Well that's a given.” The wind continued to increase in its volume, sending chills down Tommy's spine. He brought his hands closer to his chest and began rubbing them together in an attempt to create any semblance of heat. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Is it just me or is it getting colder?” He asked. The whistling of the wind made it more difficult to understand the others. “George? Can you hear me?” He felt George's hand tighten around him as he pulled himself closer to the teen. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on?!” Tommy heard George yell as the wind began to crescendo around him. The inky darkness grew even stronger. He could hear Wilbur's voice crying out distantly, before George screamed his name.</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“George, what's going on?!” He yelled. George's grip on his hand began to slip, so Tommy clutched onto it tightly. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Wilbur's gone!” George's voice exclaimed. Despite him being seated basically next to him, he could barely hear the man. “He was here for one second and then he was gone!”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Did he let go?!” Tommy screeched. The wind was practically howling in his ear, and he could feel Georges grip slipping through his fingers. George's voice was calling out to him, but his words were lost in the commotion. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, George's hand was ripped backwards, and Tommy was barely able to hold onto him. He could hear George let out a cry of shock, but before he could ask what had happened, his hand slipped through Tommy's hand, and with a scream, the darkness enveloped him. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Heyyyy, how y'all doing?<br/>I know its been a week since I last posted, but like I said in my previous chapter, I did have family over for Thanksgiving, so I didn't have a lot of free time to work on this story, so I decided to stretch out my updates in order to give myself more time to write and edit this story<br/>I'm going to be honest, its not been as much fun as the other stories, but I'm powering through. I gotta get through this series somehow<br/>yea, thats about it, you know the rules, roast me if you spot a typo</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Innermost Desires</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wilbur, Tommy and George receive a visitor</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>On Tuesday the 19, June 2019, at precisely ??? pm, Tubbo Smith came to a standstill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time had passed strangely. While he did not know how long he had been on the move, he estimated that had been several hours. In that time, the white void had not changed once. It remained just as long and suffocating as it had been when he arrived. As his mind started to wander, he began to wonder if he would ever escape. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>Glancing down, Tubbo attempted to move his legs forward, but they refused to move. He narrowed his eyebrows in confusion, but felt a wave of exhaustion cover his body, clinging to his bones. He attempted to speak, but his throat was sore, and he could feel the mounting pressure in his head beginning to increase. He wondered how long it had been since he had last ingested any substances. Racking his brain, he realized he hadn’t eaten or drank anything since the previous night. It was no wonder his body was beginning to shut down. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>Glancing upwards, he could see small black dots floating. Hazily, he reached a hand out to grab them, but they passed through his fingers. His brain was alight with confusion, but before he could do anything, he could feel his body floating through the air.</span>

</p><p>
  <span>Before he knew it, he was lying face down on the ground, pain shooting through his body. He found he was too tired to care about the ache flaring across his skin. All he could think about was how cool the ground felt. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>His head lolled, and he lazily looked around him. The white void seemed to grow brighter, and Tubbo had to narrow his eyes to avoid the brightness. His eyelids began to grow heavier, and with a groan, he closed them. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo could feel time slipping in and out of focus. There were moments of perfect consciousness, followed by moments of complete dizziness. Tubbo’s body felt like rubber bands. He could feel himself laugh at the notion, what a silly thing to say. His mind roared with pain and numbness, but all he could do was lay there. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>In the distance, he could hear the gentle echo of something approaching. While he could not make out what the noise was, he knew that it was calling to him. Blearily he opened his eyes in an attempt to make out what it was, but the brightness seared his eyes. He closed them again.</span>

</p><p>
  <span>As his mind began to drift, he could feel something touching him, a hand perhaps? The contact lit his body with pain, and he let out a groan. Trying to stop the contact, he raised his arms in defense, but all he could do was lightly bat at the person before his arms fell to the ground again. Underneath him, he could feel the ground slip away, before the darkness enveloped him once again. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>---</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Theta!” </span>

</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur was awoken by the sound of a voice calling his name. No, not his name, his old name. The voice was, hauntingly familiar. When the voice called out his name again, he sat up and opened his eyes. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>He was laying on a white beach, the golden sun reflecting beams of red light across the dark blue ocean. Wilbur traced his hand along the sand, running it between his fingers and letting it fall into a pile on the ground beneath him. Glancing upwards, he could see a large ring of planets floating in the fading light. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>He knew that collection of planets, he’d been raised under it. Every night, he had set up his telescope on the roof of his parents' home and looked at them, Koschei beside him.</span>

</p><p>
  <span>He paused at the thought of his friend. That name. He repeated it to himself several times, unable to comprehend why the word felt so foreign on his tongue.  </span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Theta! Theta!” The voice called again. Turning around, Wilbur stared at the figure dressed in red approaching him. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Koschei.” He breathed. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>And it was Koschei, Koschei the way he had known him in his youth. He had the same dirty brown hair, the same dark eyes, the same smile. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>Koschei, perfectly preserved, Koschei, free from the horror of the drums. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur let out a sharp gasp as he shakily rose to his feet. “Koschei, Koschei!” He said, repeating the word like a prayer. He felt his body take a step forward, and then another, and then another, until he was running. Sand began to fly as he haphazardly collapsed into the embrace of his friend.  “Koschei, you’re here, you’re here!” He exclaimed, holding onto his arms tightly, fearing he’d lose his friend if he let go of him. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Theta, what the fuck is this?!” Koschei exclaimed, raising his arms in defense. Wilbur ignored him, losing himself in the embrace. How long had it been since he had been able to hold his friend like this.  </span>

</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you.” He breathed. Underneath him, Koschei let out a sharp bark of laughter.</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Oh come on Theta, what’s the meaning of this? You’re acting like you haven’t seen me in years.” Oh, how right he was, Wilbur thought. “Hey,” He said, his voice layered with concern. “Is everything alright?”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you say that?” Wilbur asked.</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“You’re getting all weepy on me.” Koschei replied, his eyebrows raised. Confused, Wilbur raised a hand to his face, allowing his fingers to trace the tear tracks running down his cheeks. When did he start crying?</span>

</p><p>
  <span>He startled as Koschei raised a hand to his face, lightly moving away the hair that was covering his eye. “Are you okay?”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur stared at his childhood friend. How long had it been since they were like this? Five hundred years, a thousand years? How long had it been since they could be like this, free from the hatred, the fits of rage and the laughter, that awful laughter?</span>

</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur wanted nothing more than to stay here like this. To be free from all the pain. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>Just him and Koschei, the way they once were. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just so good to see you again.”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>---</span>

</p><p>
  <span>The sound of “God Save the Queen” being played by a band was the first thing Tommy heard as he opened his eyes. Blinking under the bright light of the sun, he gazed out onto his surroundings. He was standing on a brick street, looking onto a massive statue of Queen Victoria. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>As the music became louder, he turned to look at what was causing it. He could see the members of the Buckingham Palace guard approaching him, blasting the song. Turning around, he realized he was standing at the entrance to Buckingham Palace, and that the golden gates were open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy Anderson.” A soft voice called out. Tommy could see a person flanked by two royal guards standing on a red carpet. He narrowed his eyes, attempting to identify who it was. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>No, it wasn’t… It couldn’t be. That's impossible, he thought to himself. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Please approach.” The voice repeated. Tommy nodded, and began approaching the figure. As he neared the person, he began to notice their appearance. Small, curled white hair, a lilac coat with a matching hat and purse. Two corgis were seated at their feet, their tails wagging. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit,” He whispered to himself. “It's the queen!”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>The queen smiled gently in response. Tommy could feel his mind leaving his body as he entered autopilot mode. Distantly, he could hear the old woman speaking to him, he could feel his hand reaching out to shake hers, but he had little control over anything. He watched her look at him expectedly. “What?” He said, his voice wobbling. The queen and the guards began to laugh, and he hesitantly laughed with them, unaware of what the joke was. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>“I asked you if you were ready to join the ranks of the royal guard.” She said. Tommy’s jaw dropped.</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“A-Are you asking me to work for you?” He stammered. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Well of course,” The queen stated. “You’ve worked so hard to get here, I felt I should reward you for your hard work and dedication to this nation, and to me.”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Uh huh.” Tommy nodded, feeling as if he were cloud nine. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Then please follow me inside.” The queen extended her gloved hand, and Tommy took it eagerly, following the woman into the golden halls of Buckingham Palace. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>---</span>

</p><p>
  <span>Drip</span>

</p><p>
  <span>Drip</span>

</p><p>
  <span>Drip</span>

</p><p>
  <span>The feeling of rain landing on his skin was the first thing George processed as he opened his eyes. He was standing underneath an umbrella on the side of a street. Hesitantly, he reached his hand out, allowing the cold water to drip onto his hand, letting it run down his fingers. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me,” A voice called out to him. Turning around, George spotted a man dressed in a tight suit approaching him, holding what appeared to be a menu in his hand. “Are you George Ashworth by chance?”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Um, yea?” He responded, confused. The man's face lit up with a smile. </span>

</p><p>
<span>“Excellent!” He exclaimed, reaching over and placing a guiding hand onto Georges back. “Please follow me!”</span>

</p><p>
<span>George squirmed out of the man's grasp. “Um, I’m a bit confused, I think you have the wrong person.”</span></p><p>
  <span>“My apologies.” The man said, stepping backwards. “But, you are George Ashworth, aren’t you?”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” George replied hesitantly, the feeling of uncomfortableness growing in his stomach.</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Then you are to follow me as I take you to your table. You have a reservation, and its my job to make sure you arrive on time.”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Reservation?”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed, you have a reservation with us for 6:30. Your guest notified us that the two of you would be arriving late, and to keep an eye out for you.”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“What guest?” George asked. The man ignored him, taking the umbrella out of his hands and closing it. George stiffened as another set of hands grabbed hold of his shoulders and slid the yellow raincoat he was wearing off of him. “What is, what are you doing?”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Sir, please follow me.” The first man spoke. George attempted to back away, but the man behind him placed his hands on his back, guiding him into the entrance of the building. George stumbled as the man pushed him inside, but turned too late to leave as the first man had already closed the door behind him. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>Turning back, George began to suspect his environment. He was standing in what he assumed to be a busy restaurant. The walls were a deep red and draped with golden accents, the tables were filled with patrons dressed in crisp suits and smooth dresses and a band was playing a gentle song, one that George recognized, but couldn’t name. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Your table is this way.” The man said. George narrowed his eyes, but walked where the man was pointing to, feeling that he wouldn’t be able to leave. He reached over to a table with a pristine white table cloth, pulling out the chair and sitting down. He could hear the band increasing in volume, but decided to trace his fingers along the shiny silverware. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, George, there you are.” A voice said. George looked up just in time to see a figure sitting themselves down at the adjacent seat. He let out a gasp. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>The figure did not have a face. They were dressed in a fine suit with a yellow, or was it green, tie, his mind supplanted. Light brown, almost blonde hair dripped down onto their face, which had been replaced with what George recognized as TV static. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>“What are you having?” The person asked. George blinked in confusion, before looking at the menu. He hesitantly opened it, running his fingers down the list of options, when he noticed the golden ring circling his finger. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>He raised his hand to his line of sight. It was beautiful, thin gold swirling into leaves, far too beautiful for him. George began attempting to pry it off, when the figure placed their hand onto his.</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” They asked, concerned. George looked up at them in confusion. “I thought you liked your wedding ring?”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Wedding?” George exclaimed, confused. The person laughed, before raising Georges hand to their face and pressing it against it. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>“Our wedding, love. The one whos anniversary we're celebrating today?” </span>

</p><p>
  <span>Love. George didn’t understand why the word sent shivers down his spine. This person, he didn’t know them, he didn’t know anything about them, this was wrong.</span>

</p><p>
  <span>But still, a part of George told him that this was right. That this was how it was supposed to be. He could feel the nervous knot in his stomach begin to 
</span></p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” He replied. “My bad.” The person laughed, lacing their fingers with Georges. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>“You look beautiful, love.”</span>

</p><p>
  <span>George was loved. </span>

</p><p>
  <span>Was that always what he had wanted?</span>

</p><p>
  <span>This was a stranger without a face, without a name. He had no connection to this person. And yet, he wanted to be loved by them. He wanted to feel their arms around him, holding him close. He wanted to be safe.</span>

</p><p>
  <span>“So do you.” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey y'all<br/>I know its been awhile, but I wanted to give y'all an update on this story.<br/>So, finals are coming up for me, meaning I've had to put the writing aside to focus on that. I also had a major german exam I had to study for, so that also took a lot of writing time away.<br/>Along with that, I've been really struggling with what to do with this story. I've always had trouble creating a plan for when I write, and as it stands, I've made a change that makes it difficult to write for when I'm not satisfied with what I'm creating.<br/>I won't be updating next week, since I have finals during that time. I'm hoping that over the winter break I'll be able to put more time into this story and bring you guys the story you deserve.<br/>Thank you to everyone who stuck by me during this process, and I'll hopefully be seeing you again soon.<br/>And as always, roast me if you spot a typo!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Green Eyes and New Bonds</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tubbo meets allies and enemies<br/>The others fall further</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> On Tuesday the 19, June 2019, at precisely ??? pm, Tubbo Smith felt a finger repeatedly poking him in the face. He scrunched his eyes together. “Tommy,” He moaned, “Stop doing that, it's annoying.”</p><p> “I’m not Tommy.” A foreign voice exclaimed. Tubbos eyes flashed open as he felt his stomach drop. The voice, while not belonging to any of his compatriots, was familiar, perhaps a stranger he had heard in passing. Jolting backwards, he spotted a figure crouching down to look at him. </p><p> It was the jester from the previous evening, still dressed in the same yellow costume. However, he looked different. The makeup was messy, the red smile stretching unnaturally. The yellow horns had grown longer and stretched into sharp points. Worst of all were its green eyes, the pupils dilated and stretched into crescent like shapes. The innocent and comedic elements of the jester appearance had been horribly mutated to a point where the sight of him was unnerving.</p><p> “I don’t know how you managed to get here,” the Jester spoke, the familiar voice now lined with an edge. “But I want you to know that your friends are not leaving here alive.” The Jester rose to a standing position, and Tubbo realized just how small he was in comparison to the beast leering over him. </p><p> “What have you done with my friends?” Tubbo barked, puffing out his chest in an attempt to make himself seem bigger then he really was. The Jester’s red mouth stretched open to reveal a set of sharp teeth. </p><p> “You needn’t worry about them anymore.” The Jester said, its voice gravelly. Looking into the Jesters eyes, Tubbo could spot how its irises were beginning to change color. “They’re happy where they are. They don’t need you anymore!”</p><p> “Stop it!” Tubbo exclaimed, rising to his feet. “Why are you doing this?”</p><p>“Because it's fun!” The Jester let out a sharp bark of laughter that reminded Tubbo of the hacksaws used in shop class. “Because you’re the only person to ever escape the clutches of one of my victims' minds.” The Jester reached out its hand and pressed one of its clawed fingers onto the tip of Tubbo's nose. “Consider this mercy, you won’t die alone, unlike your friends.”</p><p>“What do you mean, not die alone?” Tubbo asked, stepping forwards. The Jester let out another bark of laughter. “Where are my friends?!”</p><p>“You’ll be in good company, don’t worry!” It stepped backwards, angling itself before beginning to spin in a circular motion. Tubbo was confused, but in a matter of seconds, the speed had increased. As the wind began to whip, the yellow, green and red of its costume began to blur together, becoming a single blob of whirling color. Tubbo brought a hand up to his face to block it from the howling wind, before the Jester’s speed increased to such a level that it disappeared from sight, the wind falling silent in its absence</p><p> Tubbo stayed still for a moment, before letting out a sigh. As he thought back to the previous night's events, he could faintly remember the feeling of hands on his back. He glanced around the void, before he noticed a large black lump. He crossed over to it, noticing a large white mass around what he assumed to be its neck. Considering for a moment what the Jester had said, Tubbo realized that the mass was probably the body of Shakespeare. While the Bard's eyes were closed, Tubbo could still see his chest rising, indicating that the man was at the very least alive. </p><p>Squatting down, Tubbo extended his hand and hesitantly poked the older man in the face, attempting to wake him up. When the bard showed no visible indication of change, he poked him again, being met with the same response. As annoyance began to set, Tubbo contemplated whether or not it was the right thing to do, before mentally saying fuck it and slapping the Bard in the face. </p><p> “Owww!” Shakespeare groaned as he jolted upwards, pressing his hand to the side of his face. “What in God's name was that for?”</p><p> “Language,” Tubbo said, his eyes lidded. “You weren’t waking up.”</p><p> “You could’ve just shaken me up.”</p><p>“I poked you in the face. Several times.”</p><p> “Still would have been better than outright hitting me.” The bard muttered, tucking in his knees before coming to a stand. “Its nice to see a familiar face.”</p><p> “Same here.” Tubbo replied. “How long have you been here?</p><p> The bard pressed his hand against his chin. “Three days? Time runs strangely here, I can’t be sure what to make of it.” </p><p> “Have you any idea of what this place is exactly?”</p><p> Tubbo rose to his feet. “Not really.” He rubbed his shoulder hesitantly. “Right before I woke you, I saw that Jester from your show.”</p><p> Shakespeare turned to look at him. “From my show?”</p><p> “Yea,” Tubbo responded. “As You, something or whatever, I wasn’t paying that much attention. Yellow costume, red lips ringing a bell?”</p><p> “Aye, that sounds similar to my work. But why would he be here? This place,” He gestured to their surroundings, “It doesn’t seem of this world.”</p><p> Tubbo debated whether or not it was the smartest idea to tell a man from the sixteenth century that there was a hostile alien invading his mind. “Beats me.”</p><p> “When did you arrive here?”</p><p> “I think about a day ago.” Tubbo responded. “I was…” He trailed off, attempting to think of an answer. “I just woke up here alone.” He rubbed his arm nervously. “I think the Jester’s done something to my friends.”</p><p> “Why do you say that?” Shakespeare asked, his fingers tracing across the white ruff seated on his neck.</p><p> “The Jester said they were somewhere they were happy, without me. But that can’t be, I think it's done something to them, something bad.” He shivered involuntarily, recalling its sharp toothed grin. </p><p> “We’ll find them.” Shakespeare said, placing a hand on Tubbo's shoulder. </p><p> “I hope so.” Tubbo muttered. </p><p>---</p><p> “I can hear the gears in your head turning Theta.” Koschei said, sticking his finger into Wilburs face. “What's going on in that overly inflated head of yours?”</p><p> Wilbur turned his head over to look at his friend. Koschei’s brown hair was messy, with small yellow flowers that Wilbur had placed there poking through the locks. “None of your business.”</p><p> “Oh please,” Koschei huffed, rolling onto his side and placing his head into his palm “Let me guess, you’re thinking about tomorrow?”</p><p> “Tomorrow?” A grin spread across Koschei's face.</p><p> “Oh don’t play dumb Theta, the time vortex?” Wilbur's stomach dropped, and he shot up.</p><p> “It's tomorrow?” He whispered in disbelief. Koschei rose into a sitting position. </p><p> “Of course,” He responded. “It's been scheduled for over a year, did you forget?” He let out a howl of laughter. “Only you could forget about an event like that!”</p><p> Wilbur turned to look at his friend at the sound of laughter. It was innocent, full of life, a far reach from the one that haunted him throughout his lifetimes. How many times did he hear that laugh as he stared into the eyes of his greatest foe, Schlatt. </p><p> But for now, it was free of that darkness. It was Koschei as he remembered him, Schlatt as he remembered him. Before the hatred, before the bloodlust that spanned their many lives. </p><p> “You can’t.” He breathed.</p><p> Koschei's laughter died down. “Can’t what?”</p><p> “You can’t go to the time vortex.” Wilbur breathed, his eyes shifting rapidly. He reached over and grabbed Koschei's shoulders. “You can’t go to the time vortex!”</p><p>“Why not?” Koschei exclaimed, attempting to escape Wilburs tight grasp on his shoulders. </p><p>“It’ll ruin you!” Wilbur exclaimed, shaking his friend. “You’ll see eternity, and it will turn you! You’ll become a monster!”</p><p>“Theta please, stop this!” Koschei exclaimed, gripping onto Wilburs arms. “You’re scaring me.”</p><p>“Promise me!” Wilbur could feel tears burning in his eyes. He could barely contain himself, spilling all his innermost wishes. “Promise me you won’t go! We’ll ditch, we’ll get away from here. We’ll steal a Tardis and escape this place!”</p><p>“Wilbur-”</p><p>“Please!” Wilbur breathed, tears beginning to slide from his eyes. Koschei looked at him in confusion, but silently reached into his red cloak and pulled out a piece of white fabric, handing it to him. Wilbur hesitantly took it and began dabbing at his eyes. </p><p>“Okay.” Koschei whispered, barely audible. Wilbur looked at him. Koschei looked him straight in the eye. “I’ll go with you.”</p><p>Wilbur let out a sharp breath, a smile stretching across his face. He threw himself onto Koschei, embracing his friend in a tight hug. “Thank you Koschei!”</p><p>“Aw shut it.” Koschei responded annoyed, but Wilbur could hear the smile in his voice. “I don’t know how I’ll ever explain this to my parents.” He shut his eyes, and opened them again. His brown eyes glowed green. </p><p>---</p><p>“Would you like to try on the crown?” The Queen asked. </p><p>Tommy was standing next to her in a large golden hall with a long red carpet leading to a golden mass at the end of the room. He turned and looked down at the old woman. “Would I!”</p><p>The Queen gestured forward, and the two began to walk down the hall. Tommy’s eye was drawn to the assortment of golden ornaments and pieces of jewelry. “Do ya mind if I-” He pointed to a particularly large necklace.</p><p>“Yes, Guards, see to it Mr. Anderson gets his necklace.” The Queen said. </p><p>“My necklace!” Tommy whispered, rubbing his hands together in excitement. The guards stationed in the hallway raised their heads, before approaching the necklace and taking it out of its case. Tommy stepped forward to grab it, but the guards moved to stand behind him. “This isn’t going to-” He was cut off as the guards raised the necklace and gently placed it over his head. “Right then. This is very heavy, and very shiny, if I do say so myself.” He chuckled at his own joke.</p><p>“It suits you well, young man.” The Queen said. Tommy felt pride stir in his chest. </p><p>“Yea, I’m the man.” He growled, nodding to himself. They continued moving forward, and Tommy realized that the golden mass was in fact the throne. When they were within feet of the throne, the Queen stopped, and Tommy did his best not to trip at the sudden lack of movement. </p><p>“Guards, the cape please.” The Queen exclaimed, raising her hand. The guards stationed at the throne stepped away from their post and disappeared into a golden door that blended well into the wall.</p><p>“Tommy let out a nervous laugh. “The cape, what is that exactly for?”</p><p>“Why, your coronation, of course.” The Queen said in a sickly sweet voice. Tommy felt his stomach drop. </p><p>“M-My coronation?” He stuttered, stepping back. The Queen nodded. “Why am I being coronated? For what reason?”</p><p>“Did no one tell you?” The Queen asked. Tommy nervously shook his head, the necklace jingling. “Must I do everything myself? Tommy Anderson, you are being crowned King of the United Kingdom today.”</p><p>“That's impossible.” Tommy breathed, in a state of total disbelief. “That's not physically possible.”</p><p>“But it is, young man.” The Queen responded, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve proven yourself to be a strong leader, willing to do whatever it takes for your country and for me.”</p><p>“Are you dying?” Tommy exclaimed.</p><p>“Not in the physical sense. But I feel that my time as monarch has come to an end, and you are the only person suited to take my place.”</p><p> “What about your son?”</p><p>“We don’t speak of him.” </p><p>“For what he did to Diana?”</p><p> “For what he did to Diana.”</p><p>“Makes sense, makes sense.” Tommy muttered. He heard the click of a door, and his eyes were drawn to the two guards who had emerged from the hidden door, carrying a red cloak. He scoffed, before looking back to the Queen, who gestured to the throne. Hesitantly, he stepped forward, waiting for someone to yell at him for approaching something so sacred, before it dawned on him that this was actually happening. </p><p>“Holy shit.” He breathed as the guards stepped behind him and draped the cloak over his shoulders, nearly sending him tumbling to the ground under its weight. “Christs that heavy.” He muttered as he regained his footing. The guards reached to their sides and pulled out a large golden staff and ball, gesturing with it for Tommy to take hold of. Tommy nervously took hold of the two items and looked back at the Queen, who pointed to the throne encouragingly. </p><p>Nervously, Tommy stepped backwards and allowed himself to be seated onto the throne. It was surprisingly uncomfortable, and Tommy shuffled for several moments, attempting to find a comfortable position. After he stopped moving, the guards raised their arms up, holding what Tommy knew to be the crown jewels, and placed the heavy crown delicately upon his head. </p><p>“We now claim Tommy Anderson to be the rightful ruler of the United Kingdom. Long live the King!” The guards shouted. Tommy could hear the sounds of clapping and trumpets glaring as he zoned out, bliss erupting across his body. He let out a bark of laughter, grinning from ear to ear as his blue eyes glowed green. </p><p>---</p><p> “Are you enjoying your meal?” The person asked. George paused mid bite, causing the person to laugh and he could feel his face flush.</p><p> He swallowed, wiping his face with the red napkin. “It's good.” He muttered, his eyes glancing upwards to look at the person. </p><p> He didn’t know if it was his imagination, but slowly he could make out more features of their face. While it was primarily still static, he could make out the shape of a nose, eyes and mouth, which moved as they spoke. </p><p> He noticed the person holding out their fork for him to take a bite. He leaned over and bit in, his tongue being hit with a combination of curry and garlic. “It's Curry Risotto.” The person said. “What do you think?”</p><p> George reached over to grab his napkin, dabbing at his mouth. “It was good.” He said. The person laughed. </p><p> “What did you order?” George looked down at his plate, absentmindedly moving the food with his fork. </p><p> “Shrimp Scampi with Spaghetti.”</p><p> “May I try it?” George picked up a piece of shrimp with his fork and reached over the table. The person leaned in and bit into the shrimp. In that moment, their eyes fluttered open. They were a soft hazel color. They blinked. </p><p> “That tastes amazing!” They exclaimed. “Almost as good as mine.” They laughed at their joke, and George chuckled, his eyes returning to his meal. </p><p> His line of sight drifted once more to the ring on his right hand. Despite the dimmed yellow lights, it still shone brightly. He angled his hand, catching the light at just the right angle to reflect the light directly into the person's eye. They flinched, shrieking in surprise.</p><p> “You little twerp!” They exclaimed, their eyes narrowed, but George could spot the smirk on their face. “I can’t take you anywhere, can I?”</p><p>George was about to retort when a waiter dressed in a clean white shirt approached them holding what appeared to be an expensive looking bottle. “More wine?” He asked. </p><p>“Of course,” The person said, holding out their glass for the waiter. “George?”</p><p>“Sure.” George said, allowing the waiter to pour the wine into his glass. Completing his job, the waiter left, and George was left alone with his spouse.</p><p>“To us?” They said, tipping their glass. George looked at them. Their face was so close to human now, with only faint remnants of the TV static remaining. Their hair was the same shade of brown as their eyes, and they had a charming smile. George could feel his insides melting at the sight. </p><p>This was how it felt to be loved. </p><p>“To us.” He whispered, toasting the other, their glasses making a small clink as they came into contact with one another. George took a deep sip of his wine and placed the glass back onto the table. His brown eyes glowed green. </p><p>---</p><p>Far away, the Jester smiled, for it no longer needed to worry about those three. Its eyes drifted to the child and its host. </p><p>Soon, it would be done with them too. </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Merry Christmas everyone! Have an update!<br/>We're back in business baby! Finals are done and I finally have time to work on this story again. And unlike last time, I now have an idea of where I'm going with this.<br/>Thanks to everyone for sticking with me through this, your support is greatly appreciated!<br/>And as always, roast me if you spot a typo.<br/>P.S. Peep that Schlatt mention. That will not possibly ever play into future events.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Under the Blue Light</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tubbo and Shakespeare continue moving forward<br/>The Jester puts its plan into action</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> On Tuesday the 19, June 2019, at precisely ??? pm, Tubbo Smith came to a stop as he heard panting noises. Turning around, he spotted the bard crouched over, his hands on his knees. “Are you alright?” He asked.</p>
<p>Shakespeare let out a shaky breath. “I’m fine,” He said, his voice strained. “No need to worry about me.” He shook his hand in a don’t come near me manner, but let out a long wheeze. </p>
<p>“Yea, you’re definitely not fine.” Tubbo said, stepping over to the bard. “What's gotten into you?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know.” Shakespeare responded. “One moment all was well, and then the next it felt as if the world was pulled out from under me.”</p>
<p>“Weird, if it was an environmental factor it would have affected me too.” Tubbo muttered. The bard looked up at him. </p>
<p>“What are you saying?” He asked. Tubbo froze for a moment.</p>
<p>“Uhh, unimportant nonsense. You’re too old to understand it anyway.” Shakespeare rolled his eyes, but slowly stood up again, still breathing heavily. “Do you think we can keep going?”</p>
<p>“Yea, I think I can manage.” Shakespeare responded. Tubbo nodded, and the two continued moving, although at a slower rate, as they would have to repeatedly stop in order for the bard to catch his breath. </p>
<p>As they continued moving, Tubbo took the time to look around his surroundings. The white void he’d been trapped in for however long, he noted, was beginning to dim. No longer a bright shining white, the void was growing darker, more gray. </p>
<p>Tubbo wondered if it was a sign. </p>
<p>---</p>
<p> After what seemed like hours, Shakespeare asked Tubbo what he thought of the changes in their environment. Over time, the white void had faded into blackness, with the only source of light coming from thin strands of blue light, similar to the ones he had seen the previous day. </p>
<p> “I don’t know.” Tubbo said. “It seems similar to a light I saw when I first arrived. The light that led me to you.”</p>
<p> Shakespeare looked at him in confusion. “You never mentioned seeing a light.”</p>
<p> Tubbo paused. “Yea,” He said, rubbing his shoulder awkwardly. “Forgot to mention that.”</p>
<p> Shakespeare rubbed his hand along his chin. “Considering this light guided you to me, perhaps these lights are leading us to our destination.”</p>
<p>“But how do we know if this is safe? Maybe the lights are trying to trick us?”</p>
<p> “If the lights led you to me, perhaps they are leading us to a safer destination.”</p>
<p>Tubbo sighed. “It's worth a shot.”</p>
<p>---</p>
<p> The Jester’s eyes followed the two humans as they drew closer to the frontal cortex, its teeth bared. Its attempts to keep the two trapped within the subconscious had failed, and it no longer could stop them from nearing their destination.</p>
<p> Glancing over, it’s eyes trailed over the bodies of the other 3 invaders. Its brain whirred as an idea formed. Quickly, it drew into the shadows, its eyes returning to the wanderers. </p>
<p>---</p>
<p> “Tell me of your Lord.” Tubbo looked up at the bard in confusion. The two had settled down next to one another with the plans of resting for the night before continuing towards where the lights were leading them. </p>
<p> “What are you talking about?” He asked, confused. </p>
<p> “Your lord, Sir Wilbur of Tardis.” Tubbo laughed awkwardly, and Shakespeare raised his eyebrow. </p>
<p> “Oh yea, Wilbur. Yea, he’s great. I really like him.”</p>
<p> “And?”</p>
<p> “And?”</p>
<p> “And what of him? I am myself quite familiar with the noble class, and yet I cannot ever recall meeting a Sir Wilbur of House Tardis, let alone his wards. Especially one as handsome as the brunette, your friend, George was it?” A smile crossed Shakespeare’s face as he mentioned the name of Tubbo’s former babysitter, and he repressed the urge to vomit. </p>
<p> “Oh he’s new, really new. Like, you wouldn’t know him. Private fellow. Likes to keep to himself.” He said quickly, words rolling quickly off the tongue. “And George is a nobody. Nobody likes him, but Wilbur lets him stick around because he thinks he's funny and he can make fun of him. Don’t even think about George like that, he’s got cooties.”</p>
<p> Shakespeare raised his eyebrow. “What are these cooties you speak of?”</p>
<p> Tubbo wondered if Wilbur would be mad at him for potentially spreading the existence of cooties to the sixteenth century. “Kinda like Leprosy.”</p>
<p> Shakespeare’s face contorted as if he had just bitten into a lemon. “I see.” He muttered, his voice low. “But, I ask again, Sir Wilbur, what do you think of him?” Tubbo looked at his hands, thinking of what to say about the time lord. The two sat in silence for a few moments, before Tubbo took a deep breath.</p>
<p> “He’s,” He began. “He’s complicated… He’s got a lifetime's worth of experiences, but all the suffering that comes with it. There are these moments where he’s filled with rage, and it's scary because you know he could hurt you. And yet,” he trailed off, fiddling with his hands, “I know that he cares so deeply about us. I don’t think he would have let us come with him if he didn’t.” He shook his head. “He’s a good man, I think.”</p>
<p> Shakespeare nodded his head. “You know Tubbo, you remind me of my boy.” He let out a light chuckle.</p>
<p> “I didn’t know you had a son.”</p>
<p> “Not anymore.” Tubbo felt his stomach curdle. “He died, a few years back.” Tubbo watched as the bard put his hand onto his neck. Despite the darkness, he could make out his face through the beams of blue light passing by. “It's strange, you’ve got similar eyes as him. Big eyes, filled with, love for life I suppose.” He chuckled. “I’ve missed that kind of lightness it seems.”</p>
<p> Unsure of what to say, Tubbo drew his knees close to his chest, clutching them tightly. The blue light danced across him and Shakespeare, similar to the way the ocean moves under a flashlight. He heard the bard shuffling, and his quiet whisper of goodnight, but remained seated, not moving until he could hear snoring coming from the right of him. </p>
<p> Slowly, he stretched out his legs and let himself slide onto his back. He turned his head to look at the bard, before closing his eyes, allowing the blanket of sleep to cover him. </p>
<p>---</p>
<p> The Jester approached the bodies laid before it, considering. While it would be easy to use the Time Lords mind as a weapon, it knew its grasp on him was tenuous at best. Forming a connection would only increase his chance of escaping. Its eyes trailed over to that of the other adult, but it elected not to use him. His emotions were shifting rapidly, and it couldn’t allow itself to become overwhelmed. </p>
<p> That left the other child. Oh yes, it thought to itself, a smile growing across its stretched features, this would work. The child would serve him well. It hummed to itself as it leaned down and pressed a finger against the child's forehead, forming the connection, crescent green eyes glowed red.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p> <em> Tubbo!</em> </p>
<p> The first thing Tubbo heard when he woke up was the sound of Tommy screaming his name. He groaned in confusion, but when he heard Tommy scream again, he shot up, his eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of his friend. The screams continued, and Tubbo could hear them growing louder and louder, as if Tommy were coming closer to him. “Tommy!” He yelled in an attempt to reach his friend. “Tommy where are you?!” </p>
<p> <em>Tubbo please help me! Please, help me!</em></p>
<p> Tommys screams continued, still growing louder, and Tubbo had to cover his ears in an attempt to let himself think.</p>
<p> <em> Oh god no, please don’t, please don’t!</em> </p>
<p>He could hear his friend begging for mercy, to what he didn’t know, but the sounds were heart wrenching; he knew they would be present in the darkest corners of his mind for the rest of his life. </p>
<p> As he searched the darkness, he spotted a mass he identified as the sleeping body of Shakespeare. He reached over and began shaking him, stirring the man from his sleep. Shakespeare let out a groan. “What are you-”</p>
<p> “It's Tommy!” Tubbo interrupted, clutching hard onto the man's arm. “He’s screaming, he’s in danger, we have to help him!” Shakespeare stared up at him in confusion.</p>
<p> “Tubbo, what are you talking about? Nobodys screaming.” Tubbo stared at him, shocked. </p>
<p> <em>I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die!</em></p>
<p> “What do you mean no one's screaming, can’t you hear him?” Tubbo shouted. It was extremely difficult to hear the man over Tommys begging. “It's so loud! Can’t you hear it?!”</p>
<p> “No,” Shakespeare replied, and confusion began to gnaw at Tubbos stomach. Tommy let out a particularly loud cry, and Tubbo slammed his hands over his ears, desperate to block out the noise. All he could think about was his friend and the pain he could be in. He needed to help him. Distantly, he could hear the screams growing quieter. Glancing upwards, he could see Shakespeare’s lips moving, but his words were being blocked out. </p>
<p> “I don’t know what to tell you.” Tubbo heard the bard say as he removed his hands from his ears, straining them to keep track of his friends cries. “Are you sure the Jester isn’t playing tricks on you?”</p>
<p> “That's not it! I know what I heard!” Tubbo yelled, turning on the man. “Don’t lie to me!”</p>
<p> “I’m not lying!” Shakespeare exclaimed, grabbing onto Tubbos shoulders. “This place is doing something to your mind!” Tubbo stepped backwards out of his grasp. </p>
<p> “How do I know you’re not trying to trick me?” He bit back, anger flaring in his gut. “How do I know you're really yourself and not a trick played by the Jester? Hmm?”</p>
<p> Shakespeare stared at him, exasperated. “I am the real Shakespeare. I am not a trick from that demon. Do not think for a moment that I am.” Tubbo turned to look back into the void. It had grown even darker since the previous night, and the blue light that had streaked across it had begun to dim. “Tubbo, are you absolutely certain of what you heard?”</p>
<p> “I am.” He replied, his voice strained. “I know that Tommy's out there, and I know that he’s in trouble.” He clenched his fist. “Why is that so hard for you to believe?”</p>
<p>“Because there was nothing, Tubbo. No yelling, no screaming, nothing. Your mind is playing tricks on you.” Tubbo stared at him in disbelief. </p>
<p>“You’re wrong!”</p>
<p>“No I’m not, Tubbo, please listen to me-”</p>
<p> “Stop talking, you’re just trying to confuse me.”</p>
<p> “Tubbo, I’m real!”</p>
<p> “You’re getting in my way, I have to help Tommy.”</p>
<p> <em>Tubbo please! </em> </p>
<p>Tommy's voice rang out again. It was softer, but filled with dread and pain. Tubbo could picture his friend bleeding out, desperately calling to him. Hot tears began to burn in his eyes. “Tommy!” He yelled. “Tommy where are you?”</p>
<p> “Tubbo, he’s not real, you are hallucinating.”</p>
<p> <em>I’m going to die alone.</em> </p>
<p>That was all it took for Tubbo to begin sprinting into the darkness. He could hear the bard calling out his name, but he kept running, his mind focused on saving his friend. “I’m coming Tommy!” He yelled, the wind beginning to pick up. Tubbo felt his heart beating rapidly in his chest. </p>
<p>The wind grew louder and louder, drowning out Tommy's voice until all he could hear was the sound of his heart beating. He struggled against the wind, attempting to push past it, his feet nearly giving out at several points. But he continued moving, clenching his eyelids due to its force.</p>
<p>All at once, the wind ceased, and Tubbo crashed to the floor. Opening his eyes, he was blinded by the brightness of the white void he had become all too familiar with. Leaning on his elbows, he rose from the ground, placing a hand over his eyes to block out the brightness. </p>
<p>“Tubbo!” A voice called out.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The passage of time is something that can be so long yet so short at the same time.<br/>But yea, Dad Shakespeare, hope that won't come into play down the line. I feel like I needed to develop him and Tubbos relationship, as it is the primary one of this story<br/>Lifes the same I guess. I went hiking yesterday, and got to play around with some of the new art supplies I got for christmas.<br/>Might fuck around and write a short story about my smp headcannons in the future. Jk jk,,,unless<br/>As always, roast me if you spot a typo</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello everybody! Great to be back!<br/>Yes, I know, this one is a long time coming, but I had some school related issues, so I haven't been able to work on this story for awhile. I will be trying to keep my updates to a twice per week basis (monday's and friday's), but if something comes up, I'll let you know<br/>I also want to maybe publish some more one-shot stories, not necessarily related to this story, in the future, so if you want to see that, please let me know<br/>As always, big thanks to @dtvibez on tumblr for helping me out on this story. If you want to talk to me directly, come find me @thatonedoctorwhoau on tumblr<br/>Any ways, I hope you guys will like this story and as always, roast me if you spot a typo<br/>p.s. this is my subtle attempt to indoctrinate my audience into reading As You Like It because I was in a production of it and love the show</p></blockquote></div></div>
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